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on Thu 27 Nov 03, 9:34 PM to CruelLadyScorpio's blog.
Serendipity's fish n salad diet reminded me of an incident some years ago when Cru, overstimulated by Rick Stein's magical production of all sorts of golden, mouthwatering and nutritious dishes, decided we should Eat More Fish. Living in Scotland, there's quite a bit of it about at good prices, and as the local supermarket had just opened a marvellous fish counter populated by all sorts of damp and colourful fishy things - ('Look, here is Red Snapper! See - there are Monkfish Tails! And over there, that grey thing He marinated in sherry!') - Cru decided the hand of Fate had been laid upon the collective stomach.
Enthusiastically cracking the spine of my Guru's latest book, I decided the crisp Thai Fish Cakes with Sweet n Sour dip were novel enough to ease my son into his mother's new culinary Utopia. Having minced the white fish, I discovered I had no plain flour, so used self- raising instead, making a mental note to omit the salt later. Something else went into it - milk I think - to bind, and chopped spring onions, and it started looking like He said it should. As my son was quite young, I realised chopped red chillies would be too fierce for him, so I added several generous dollops of mild chilli powder. The mixture turned pink. 'No matter,' I thought cheerily 'T'will still taste the same, and when they're cooked they'll be golden brown.'
Forming the mixture into twenty 'flat round cakes' took longer than anticipated despite liberal dusting with flour, and I ended up looking like I was wearing two pink fish-flavoured mittens. Feeling vaguely exhausted, and deaf to my son's increasing requests as to the ETA for tea, I dutifully brushed them with oil, placed them under a hot grill and mixed up the dip, which was easy, and tasted nice. I began to cheer up again. I went to turn over the cakes, but something wasn't right; when He had done them on the telly, they were bubbling and beginning to brown. Mine remained pinkly inert.
I put them closer to the grill element, gave the offspring a handful of raisins to tide him over, and sat down for a cig.
Ten minutes later, my child was looking suspiciously at a plate laden with slightly burnt pink tennis balls studded with green bits. I had the creeping feeling that the situation was slipping away from me. Valiantly declaring they only tasted right when dipped in the sauce, I did so and took a generous bite. It was fuckin' disgusting - pasty bland fish dough. My son stared at me with a 'What is she going to do now?' look on his face. I ate the rest of it and encouraged him to at least try a bite. He did, and his expression matched my internal feelings. He blinked a few times and his eyes rolled. Two matching slices of Grand Pan stared back at me. I phoned for a pizza.
However, I am nothing if not determined (I AM a Domme, doncha know), and the Pink Fish Cakes were followed in rapid succession by Rubber Bands in Garlic Slime (aka Squid), Dessicated Thing with Twig n Bits (John Dory with Olives, Capers and Rosemary) and Yellow and Green Splat (Smoked Haddock with Savoy Cabbage, Lemon and Noisette Butter) amongst others, and finally Six-Year Old Up Every Night For a Week Bleating About 'Cooked Dead Eyes' (Baked Red Bream - you were s'posed to leave the heads on!).
We still eat fish - the kind from the chip shop, or with 'Bird's Eye' on the packet. But now he's older, I'm wondering if I can persuade him to try Serendipity's sardine potato filling ... fillyslave did get him to eat a tiny bit of baby octopus the other day, but I think that might have been for the 'boast' factor - he spent a good deal of time trying to get her to let him take the rest of it to school in a jar to gross out his mates ...
(He's just asked me what I'm giggling about, and I said I'm writing about some fish recipes I'd tried out a long time ago. 'Oh yeah - those fuckin' awful fish cakes. And that Thing. Never again.' Seven years ago, _seven_, and he still remembers. Sometimes kids can be terribly stubborn ...)
Edited Sun 18 Jan 04, 6:33 PM by CruelLadyScorpio
